Paths Crossed
by bexr91
Summary: Neither captor or captive knew when the paths crossed over.
1. After

**Paths Crossed**

After something as incredible as the events of the Red Eye. How is someone like Lisa Reisert meant to act? Was she to withdraw from the world that sends threats against her? Is she meant to breakdown and suffer horrendous nightmares following the incident? Or was the experience a tell - tale sign that she must move on, enjoy her young life and independence and bask in her victory? It was easy to respond as it happened, the choices were simple, straightforward but heavy in it's consequence, yet, more difficult, was how to cope after, the choices infinitely more complicated and something as simple as moving on should have been easy.

It wasn't.

For Jackson, the flight was leaden with difficult choices, exhausted facades and heavy expectations from his customers and his captive. Jackson had never pondered this but then he had never expected her. His actions got easier and easier as the flight progressed. His retaliation against her made him clearer in his mind, it became obvious and straightforward to be consumed with unimaginable fury with what she had done. Somehow his actions that night, in retrospect, were unusually difficult but as Jackson looked out onto the white washed condo that held Lisa within it's walls, it was infinitely easy debating what to do next.

Neither captor or captive knew when the paths crossed over.


	2. Drowning out the Memories

**Drowning in Memories**

On the outset, Lisa had fully recovered and moved on with her life. She didn't work as long hours, she went out with friends acquired through Cynthia and she had received a higher salary and special commendations from Keefe. All in all, she seemed happier and fitter than ever.

This came as no surprise to Jackson, in-fact, anything about her came of no surprise. He had been a fully functional citizen for nearing a month and a half now and out of overwhelming curiosity, he found himself watching Lisa Reisert for the second time that week. He watched as she trotted about her life and routine, not half as rigid as before, displaying open smiles, decent work schedules and regular trips and visits with her friends out and about Miami.

He wasn't satisfied.

Something was amiss to the scenarios she presented, something suspicious about her lack of rigid routine and socializing. Haunting, was the smiles she displayed so often during the day. It was almost so convincing that he grew furious when he realized her persona was a falsehood. Old memories of her lies came flooding back at full speed and the repressed hate and anger came to a shocking realization. It was time to pay.

He would not be fooled again.

* * *

><p>"Lisa, you ready to go?"<p>

"I am just putting my heels on, then I'll be right out." Lisa replied as she fumbled with her shoe. She stood back upright and stared at her reflection for a few moments. Something whispered within her that tonight would be a bad night. She had learned to sought comfort in other means, namely Cynthia.

After the flight, Lisa had gotten to know Cynthia very well and she admired how naive and innocent she was to the world, yet she could deal very well with hostility when it was thrown in he face by some guests and potential love interests. In her own way, Lisa felt a need to protect her and support her when this occurred and alas, she realised she had been working with a best friend at the hotel for almost three years without knowing.

Leaving her condo, Lisa stepped out and headed for the taxi outside for a night out, to drown out the memories and unwind.

* * *

><p>Jackson watched as Lisa emerged from the taxi, she wasn't shit-faced, he noted.<p>

'It's a Tuesday Leese, with work tomorrow..' He thought, watching her stumble slightly. This wasn't Lisa and the urge to figure out what she was doing quenched the hunger for revenge.

Temporarily.

He approached the warm orange light tones surrounding her condo, his dark grey jacket billowed behind him in the breeze as he stealthily approached. He knew her home so well that he knew of all the places to look for entry. First things first. The front door.

* * *

><p>Lisa was absolutely exhausted as she moved through her condo to the place she was seeking.<p>

The drinks cabinet in the kitchen.

Holding onto the walls for support she felt the tendrils of her memories grasping at the edges of her mind, battling through the alcohol consumed in order to send them away. They were particularly persistent tonight. They always began with him, with Jackson. If she wasn't so focused on her task towards the kitchen, she would have smelt the memory of his cologne. She could faintly hear his hypnotizing voice, although distorted and frightening in it's alcoholic haze. She squeezed her eyes closed, desperate to expel her memories and continued to the kitchen. Once there, she fumbled for the white wine, ungraceful and panicked in her movements. Taking large mouthfuls, her mind began to clear a little, without realizing, her breathing began to slow down as well. Glancing at the number of empty bottles on her kitchen counter, she felt moisture gather at her eyelids. Silently pleading the memories and nightmares to stop.

Without direction on how to continue with her old life, Lisa had become accustomed to a number of tablets to help her cope everyday. It would come as no surprise that she was marked with nightmares, more threatening and real than any other time, after the assault, even immediately after the Red Eye, the dreams kept her awake but did not cause cause the distress in which she suffered now. It was nearing six months after the flight that things began to get bad.

The tablets didn't have enough power to suppress them sometimes, the amount she was drinking didn't mix well with the amount she had consumed.

Desperate to awaken to another day and chase away her dreams, she immediately set on getting some sleep. Bringing some alcohol just in case. So far, the doctors had been unsuccessful in relenting the nightmares.

* * *

><p>Jackson was not sure what he aimed to prove or gain from entering her home. Of course, he came armed in case but contrary to his usual logic, he allowed himself to follow his feet. Irritated to find the front door unlocked.<p>

'What is she playing at?'

He entered her home, there was something unsettling in the atmosphere, he headed to the kitchen, where he saw a collection of alcohol and wine bottles litter her counter-tops. The light glared off of them into his eye, as if in accusation. He felt angst rise in him at the scene. Lisa was much better than this. He left and was about to turn into the living room, when whimpering caught his ears. On high alert, he span round, heading toward the sound with anxious eyes.

He was not at all prepared for the sight that greeted him in her bedroom. More bottles littered her bedside tables and the floor next to her double bed. Amongst the bottles, he could see the orange pill pots, some stood and capped, others tipped empty. His breath hitched when he turned his attention to her. Little Lisa thrashed wildly underneath the covers, twisting and on the verge of screaming. She seemed to be fighting against some invisible intruder, she was obviously asleep, her forehead shiny with perspiration and effort. He had never seen her porcelain skin so pale.

A high pitch yell awoke him from the shock and he immediately went to her side. Careful he didn't get beaten, he reached out to calm her.

"Lisa, _Leese, wake up!"_ He demanded in a harsh whisper. She showed no signs of waking, so he grasped hold of the front of her pyjama shirt and shook harshly. Uncaring of his methods as long as she stopped thrashing and awakened. He felt an uncommon desperation well up at the sight of her as he continued.

"Wake up, Leese!" He shouted, relenting her shirt as her bleary eyes snapped open. With a cry, her pupils wide in fear and intoxication, she sat upright, the tendrils of her nightmare still clinging to her. He sat up a little higher, their laboured breaths echoing in the room. He saw a spark of recognition in her gaze, tears filling her eyes, she suddenly wrapped her arms around his jacket clad chest and gripped tightly, burying her face in the folds of his jacket. He, likewise, wrapped his arms around her shivering frame.

Some time later, Jackson was unaware of the time and had no inclination of moving from the position he had admonished himself when Lisa awoke, he felt that she had fallen asleep. She no longer persisted in her shivering, her whimpers and cries had faded to the quiet and steady breathes of deep sleep and her tense frame was relaxed against him. Still sat upright, it baffled him how she could be comfortable that way and how she could be so relaxed but still maintain the tight and desperate grip of her arms around him, as if she were afraid of slipping back to that dark place he found her in.

He relinquished his repetitive and soothing strokes through her hair and gently supported her neck and the base of her head as he lowered her down to her pillow. There was a frightening similarity to how he placed her head on the pillow after the head- butt on the flight. The bad memories of the flight sobered and cleared his mind. Pulling her arms from around his torso carefully, he gave them back. Watching her in a contemplative silence, he awaited any signs of discomfort, then moved his eyes back to the numerous bottles and pill pots. He glanced to the blind covered windows, noticing the start of sunrise, he had been there all night.

He turned his gaze back to her one last time before he stood and left in a brooding and concentrated silence.

He'd be back.


	3. Embracing Reality

**Embracing Reality**

Lisa awoke with a headache. Glancing about the room as she remembered her night out, she realised she had gotten off lightly. She also remembered that her memories came back to her last night with unimaginable force compared to the times before and yet felt surprisingly Ok and calm. She dreamt that he had come back, though her mind was more prone to horrifying nightmares from her assault, she was not consumed with fear at Jackson's return, on the contrary, he had saved her from the assailant from her first attack.

Looking grimly at the bottles, Lisa decided that after work she would tidy and dispose of them.

This had to stop.

* * *

><p>Staring absently out the panoramic window of his office, he felt a disconcerting inability to sift through the influx of thoughts racing through his mind. After leaving her, he had admonished himself back into his work, things were beginning to breach his control and more stifling was the fact that this morning, nothing at all seemed to make sense. A heavy and formidable brooding had taken him as soon as he sat in the desk chair. His usually sharp focus lacking. Emails went unread and unreplied. His phone rang without a pick up and the corner of the top page of the pile of paperwork for him to rifle through blew against the breeze from the window he was determined to stare out of without focus.<p>

"Rippner." A loud voice commanded from behind him. Jackson twisted his head round to find Carlisle, his boss, watching him with a curious expression.

"Everything alright, lad?" He asked, not out of compassion but suspicion.

"Yes Sir." He replied quietly. Gazing back to the window.

"You've had a rough time. Take some time off. You've nine years worth to use up." He stated without argument, amusement laced with his voice. A pause ensued before he spoke again.

"Do whatever you gotta do, Jackson.." He continued enigmatically. "I want you back at your previous best, get out and socialize, relax, meet a woman, God knows they have thrown themselves at you for years, yet you never take the bait... Something tells me one is playing on your mind."

"Sir, I-"

"Don't get in trouble, Jackson, you know the rules, Don't drag the Company into this with you... You do this as a man." He finished seriously before walking away, his footsteps loud and purposeful in the distance. Jackson resigned himself to what Carlisle had told him. A man he had respected and trusted for little over ten years. He was rarely wrong. Without argument, Jackson sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose before he began to gather his belongings.

This had to stop.

* * *

><p>Still full of energy and her mind clear of plaguing memories, Lisa had had a good day. Setting down the groceries in the kitchen, she began disposing of all the bottles she had collected over the past couple of weeks, realising for the first time how desperate she was and how horrendous being stuck in that dark place had actually became. Unbeknown to Lisa, she had no idea the trigger of her new found self help, of which Dr. Phil would have been proud. She did not question it, instead she decided on a Meatloaf CD, bouncing about as she tidied her kitchen and bedroom, the dramatic sounds and compelling lyrics uplifting her spirits as it changed from dusk to darkness of night.<p>

A knock, loud nand abrupt sounded. Hesitating, she turned down "_A kiss is a terrible thing to waste_", irritated as it was one of her favourites. Reaching the front door, she turned on the outside light to eluminate the figure at the door but found that it would turn on._' Damn it!.. Bulb must have blown.'_ Taking her chances, she opened the door, albeit cautiously and only enough to see through.

"It doesn't matter what we're loosing, only matters what we're going to find..." The figure said, its head hung from her view and his arm braced against the door-frame, he sung the song, albeit flatly, dragging out each word with emphasis. He brought his head up as if in slow motion, shocking her with his sharp blue eyes slightly covered by his lustrious hair. Although his gaze was soft, the tilt of his face made his cheekbones so prominent that he looked almost skeletal, almost evil.

If it weren't for his expressive eyes.

"One of my favourites.." Jackson continued at her lack of response. His eyes were intense on hers, she felt frozen and unable to move.

"Shame you had to turn it down, Leese." He offered a half smile, strained and grimaced slightly. She suddenly shut the door, unprepared to have it bounce back at her, forcing her to jump back and consequently allowing him entry. Watching him enter seemed unreal. His dark clothes, his long and windswept hair, a familiar terror gripped her, her breathing became hard and laboured, recognising the signs, she backed away a little and squeezed her eyes shut, holding onto the walls to allow her to maneuver through the hallway to the kitchen, whispering pleads of life to herself.

"Not real, he's not real.. He's not real." She whispered harshly.

* * *

><p>Stunned at the turn of events, Jackson watched as Lisa tried to persuade herself that he wasn't real. He found this amusing at first but as she continued, eyes still stubbornly closed and her voice more shrill with fear, he became slightly concerned.<p>

"Your not real!" She screamed suddenly, turning and bolting to her bedroom, he followed and watched her enter her en-suite. There was no way out that way, he mused. Approaching the door, he watched as she fumbled with the cabinet door as she grappled for the hideous orange pill pots. Immediately, he entered behind her, wrapping an arm around her as he pried the pot out of hand with the other.

"No, Lisa." He reprimanded into her hair, as if talking to a five year old.

"This IS real." He stated, shaking her. He turned her round slowly, holding onto her shoulders.

"Wake up Leese." He asked.

* * *

><p>Looking up at him, she felt her confusion dissipate, leaving a stark and embracing reality to the scene that came as a shock. She saw him so often in her mind. She gently wrapped her hands around the wrists of his own on her shoulders and instantly retracted them. Startled, she lept back away from him, fear and traces of anger coursed through her.<p>

"Oh my God." She whispered, covering her mouth in shock. Flicking her eyes to the door, she realised she was trapped, his imposing disposition large in the suddenly small bathroom. She would have laughed at the irony of this happening in a bathroom.

But not now, now she was terrified.

"What happened to you Lisa?" He asked, almost sounding disappointed. Anger bubbled furiously at those words.

"What do you mean, what happened to me, the question is, what happened to you _Jack?_ But then, I would know what happened. Tell me, how long were you in hospital recovering?" She asked smartly, defensive. A terrible rage coated his features and the bravery that came with her anger disappeared when she was gripped by fear once again. She stepped away from him but only hit the sink with the small of her back.

His arm swung out as he stepped menacingly towards her, Lisa tried to dodge his hand, but he only proceeded to grab a fist full of her hair, pushing it into the cabinet behind her head. Invading her personal space, he pressed against her, nose to nose, hips to hips, their knees every so often.

"Do not push me Lisa. You should be grateful I haven't killed you yet after what you did to me that day." He snarled into her face, gripping tighter he continued.

"Besides, it's none of your goddamn business what Ive been doing."He spat. He yanked her forwards and opened the cabinet door to reveal the pill pots she had reached for upon seeing him again. She gasped in fear, her scalp burning at the mercy of his strong hand.

"Explain that." He demanded. She closed her eyes tightly.

"Explain what?" She gasped with small voice. The tears she had held back came fast and fierce down her face. The grip on her hair loosened.

"You know what Leese. Stop lying to me, you know I hate it." He replied softly. Resting his cheek against her own, he relinquished his grip on her hair altogether, moving instead to her shoulder, his other hand still at her waist. She made no attempt to answer him, only her soft gasps were heard.

"Answer me." He asked again softly.

"I-" She began to answer. The words chocked in her throat. Whatever truce they had shared for brief moments before was suddenly destroyed, her defenses went right back up. Instead, she tore herself quickly from his grip.

"I-I can't do this again, Jackson." She confessed as she moved away from him, desperation coating her voice.

"I just want to live... I just want a chance to live." She couldn't make out his expression as tears dimmed her eyes but she suddenly felt a shift in the atmosphere in the room.

"You call this fucking living, Lisa?" He spat harshly, she detected rejection in his voice but only faint as he approached towards her slowly.

"Are you still working 18 hours a day? Hmm, Still all alone in the reclusion you built for yourself? Tell me, how's Daddy?" He asked cruelly. She closed the distance between them and slapped him round the face hard.

"Get. Out." She demanded furiously as he turned and displayed an angry and crazy expression on the hard planes of his face. Moving out of the way, she turned away from him. She heard his hasty footsteps leave. She followed at a distance and as he walked through the hallway, she spoke from behind him one final time.

"I doubt you, yourself live, Jackson." She stated calmly. He paused for a moment but continued out the front door. As soon as it closed, she let out a large sigh, cried loudly and slid down the wall to an ungraceful heap on the hard-wood flooring.


	4. Changing Images

**Changing Images**

The next morning, fresh and determined, Lisa made her way to work, her home tidied and emptied. Her determination outweighed her exhaustion. The click of her high heels matched the high pace of her heartbeat as she made her way to the front desk, where Cynthia sat, her long nails clicking on the computer keyboard as the phone balanced between her head and shoulder. Her multi-tasking skills had improved exceptionally over the past few months and Lisa often debated whether the assassination attempt had awakened her managerial and intuitive skills, as well as her confidence. Lisa also debated if Cynthia had become the qualities Lisa had possessed before the flight and Lisa, the neurotic and impulsive Cynthia. If she had noticed this on any other day, it would have irked her greatly, but not today.

Things were different today.

"Good morning Cynthia, Is Mr. Goodwin in the office yet?" She asked gently, making her way to her office with her coffee and bag.

"Yes, he's in, is everything OK Lisa?" Cynthia asked with a hint of worry, she scanned her features as if looking for an answer.

"Yes, there are no problems." Lisa responded quickly.

"Are you sure?" Lisa stopped in her tracks, her hand on the handle of her office door, the question she had heard many times before became suddenly important, a heavy weight burned on her chest. She turned, looking into the eyes of her best friend as if for the first time to ever do so. Slowly, very slowly, Lisa Reisert shook her head, sadness filled the previous burning sensation.

"No, Cynthia, Im not OK." Lisa replied in a resigned tone. Silence ensued for brief moments, their gazes were locked until Lisa, took her hand from the door handle and turned fully. She took in a large breath before speaking.

"Do you want to chat over lunch Cynthia?"

"Sure, I get off at 1.30, Lisa, I'd love a chat." Cynthia replied, enthusiasm re-lighting her gaze. Lisa smiled at this, grateful.

"Ok, Ill see you then Cynthia." Entering the office, Lisa drank the last of her coffee, set her bag down on her office chair and set off to 's office, her determination returned.

* * *

><p>Both red-heads strolled down the side-walk in the height of the Miami heat, the wind gently caressing their hair and skirts. Although they were good friends, their was a distance between them, a vacuum of things left unsaid that Lisa predicted was her doing. In this sense, Jackson had been right, her self imposed isolation, particularly from those who loved her had absolutely no logical reason, Cynthia on her part was unusually quiet.<p>

"So, what do you feel like having, Cynthia?" Lisa asked, facing her co-worker for the first time since they left the hotel.

"Uhh.. There is a really good Italian place at the next block?" Cynthia answered hesitantly, flashing a shy smile she usually uses for difficult guests.

"Sure, that sounds good to me." Lisa replied. Lisa began to run through what would be said, the many things she desperately wanted to tell. She let out a large sigh.

"We don't have to go if you don't want to.." Cynthia began uncertainly.

"No, no, it's not that, there are just some things I need to tell you and some things I want to tell you, that's all, I don't really know where to start." Lisa felt Cynthia's gaze on her.

"How about the beginning?" Cynthia offered with a smile as she held open the door, the cool air from the air-conditioning hitting them like a wall of ice. Lisa felt the tendrils of fear encircle her and she shivered, not knowing if it was from the cool air or her thoughts.

They were soon seated and both had placed orders before they began to speak. Lisa placed her menu down and looked across the table to where Cynthia fiddled with her cell.

"Ive requested leave, Cynthia, Mr Goodwin has offered unlimited time with a promise that I would return." Lisa said seriously, she watched as the mask of professionalism crept in the lines of Cynthia's face. Her surprise was not present, if anything, she saw a relief and pity in her gaze.

"I always knew you would at some point Lisa, in fact, I'm surprised you didn't leave after what happened.." Cynthia replied, awaiting for Lisa's reaction.

"You haven't let go have you?... When you gaze or sit alone in your office at work, I see the detached interest in your eyes, like your somewhere else." There was a slight pause, heavy in it's consequence before Cynthia spoke again. "As if you are with someone else." Lisa's head snapped up, eyes locked at the mention of him. Lisa could not mask her surprise at the intuition that the red-head across from her, possessed, she definitely underestimated her and she felt truly sorry for doing so.

"I-" Lisa began, her words catchin in her throat, what could she really say? Tell her about Jackson's presence in her life, his visits and torment? Cynthia's eyes were laden with worry, Lisa decided it would not be fair to tell her.

"I'm really sorry Cynthia." Lisa finally replied in a chocked and strained voice, as if Jackson's hands were wrapped around her throat all those months before.

"I understand, Lisa, I really do. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. I just hope some day you can." She smiled. Wisdom shining in her gaze. Lisa smiled back, albeit weak. The waiter came with their orders just then _'Impecable timing.'_ Lisa thought with relief.

"Anyway, Cynthia, I hope you don't think it too forward, but I recommended you as assistant manager in place of Michelle, who will take my place for the time being. You will get all the training you need." Lisa added hopefully. She watched as Cynthia's eyes shone with brilliance and excitement, a real smile broaden her face.

"What- I mean how-" Cynthia stumbled.

"I spoke with Mr Goodwin this morning, remember, you can begin next week if you wanted... He thoroughly approves." Lisa smiled. Cynthia clasped her hand over her mouth as if to stop screaming.

"You don't have to take the position if you don't want to, I'll just tell Mr Goodwin that-" Lisa began quickly, worried she had crossed the line. Cynthia sprang from her seat and wrapped her arms awkwardly around Lisa's small shoulders.

"Thankyou so much Lisa!" Cynthia said into Lisa's curls. Lisa placed her hands on Cynthia's arm and smiled.

"I thought of no-one else." Lisa admitted. Cynthia withdrew and stood upright, a wide and innocent smile.

"I have to go to the bathroom." Cynthia skipped off, her hair bouncing confidently around her shoulders. Lisa turned back and took a sip of her Seabreeze. A content smile of her own gracing her features.

* * *

><p>After the flight, Lisa always found it difficult to return to her fathers house. It was approaching dusk and the air was still humid, her father's next door neighbour's had their flowers in bloom, a sprinkler scattered rainbow drops of crystal along a part of her fathers lawn. Leaning against the wheel of her own car, she wondered briefly what 'Mr Smooth Jazz' saw when he looked across that night. That isn't right. She found out his name, 'Keith Ashton'. The man she had killed.<p>

Leaving the car, she approached her fathers home, ignoring the approach of memories that bubbled at the surface. The renovation were completed, so it looked like a normal sub-urban house again. Unlocking the front door, she continued inside, he was in the Kitchen, at the far end, he turned and faced her, then dropped whatever he was holding and maneuvered around the counter to the hallway.

"Lisa, I didnt expect you, is everything ok?" He asked in his familiar worried tone. For the first time in a long time, she really looked at her father. His eyes seemed weary, tired and concerned and she felt a stab of guilt that she had aged him more than his natural age. Dropping her purse to the floor, She closed the step between them and wrapped her arms around his waist, burying her face within the folds of his shirt.

"Everything's gonna be alright, sweetheart." He reassured, wrapping his comforting arms around her, rocking her slightly.

Three hours later, when the dark and clear night skies still clung to the heat of the day, Joe Reisert and his daughter were sat in-front of the television, watching _'The Big Country' _an old and classic Western which was a favourite of Joe Reisert.

"I always thought you preferred Gregory Peck to Charles Heston, Leese."

"I did, I mean I do still Daddy but I find Steve Leech more emotive. Jean Simmons really is beautiful though." Lisa commented.

"Now, that I will agree with, she has always had a special place with me." Joe replied.

"Ive taken leave from work, Dad." Lisa confessed suddenly. Joe looked over at his daughter, whose eyes were still on the screen, he could see the changing images reflect in her eyes. Taking a breath, she looked over at him in return.

"I always said you work too hard, Leese, are you planning a vacation? Out of everyone I know, you deserve it." Lisa laughed slightly.

"How many people do you socialize with, Dad?" She teased.

"You got me there, Hunny." He replied smiling. The smile faded from Lisa's eyes, sadness glossed over her eyes.

"Something isn't right, Dad... There is something not right." She declared as tears dimmed her eyes. Joe reached over and tightly grasped her hand.

"Talk to me, sweetheart. Please talk to me." He asked, a desperate tone coating his words. She looked up at him and brushed the tears abruptly away from her eyes. Strill they continued to fall.

"There is something Im going to tell you, but you have to promise to let me finish and not get mad." Lisa asked, determined.

"Sure, I promise, whats going on, Leese?" He asked, concerned. There was a pause as Lisa gathered her words, several times she tried to speak and then closed her lips before anything could come out.

"Ja-" She began and took a breath.

"Jackson was in my house the other night. He was in my house... and I was in a bad way." She started, looking up at her father briefly before gazing at the hardwood floor once again.

"I don't know why, but he took care of me. We exchanged words and it made me realise that I need to move on. To live." She finished. She glanced at him, awaiting him to say something, anything. Instead, her father looked distant, his thumb continued to brush her knuckles absently as he gazed to the covered window.

"I should...Thank him... for looking after my baby girl." He said slowly, still absorbing her words.

"Are you angry?"

"Angry, why would I be angry, Leese, I always knew that there was something, I don't know what it was, but something between you." He locked eyes with his daughter once again.

"You forget that I was right there as he gazed up at you when I shot him. I saw no vengeful, angry man, Leese. I would know, I was a soldier." He gave her hand a squeeze and an attempt at a reassuring smile. " Don't get me wrong, I begged that he wouldn't come back,that he wouldn't hurt you, but in my gut, I knew you would see him again." Her father finished. Lisa looked back to the floor, taking in his words, Joe Reisert stood up, turned the television off and walked over and kissed his daughter on her forehead.

"You go to sleep Leese, your room is all ready for you." She looked up and gave a small smile.

"Thank-you Daddy." Lisa said as she gave him one last hug.

"Anytime, sweetheart, I'm always here." He whispered.

"Go to sleep, Hunny, we can talk in the morning."


	5. Strange Guilt

**Strange Guilt**

Adjusting the throw one last time, Lisa stood and looked around her room, at the bears, the soft pinks and photographs from her youth. She turned and followed her way outside, around the landing to her fathers room. Approaching the bathroom first, she hesitantly turned on the light, feeling the fear she felt when glancing at the shower curtain that day. Her heart beating as her ear pressed to the door to hear his approach. The urgency to lift the phone and call the police for help, the memories were always fresh and never aged. They remained with her whenever she visited,twisting to the bedroom, her eyes roamed down to the floor where she had hit with full force his hand that clutched the knife, knowing that he had gained fractures from the hit of the hockey stick.

"Lisa?" With a cry, she turned around, flinching back when she saw Joe Reisert hovvering just inside the door.

Where he had stood.

"Geez, Dad, you scared me!" She breathed, clutching her chest in panic. The memories dissolved before her, always aggitated to be interrupted, as if trying to remind her of something. The trance-like magic had receeded and she was back to reality once more.

"Im sorry, Hunny, Im just going to run to the store, I'll make you something for when you finish work, yes?" Joe Resisert asked, eager to spend more time with his daughter.

"Of course, I'll be here."

"Anything in particular you wanted?" He asked, his face brimming with enthusiasm and hope.

"Surprise me." Lisa responded after a pause, a wide, albeit false, smile plastered on her face to keep with his enthusiasm. He came over to her and enveloped her in a warm hug.

"Im glad your back, Sweetheart." He said gently into her hair. Unsure of what to say, she remained quiet and hugged him tighter.

"I'll see you when I get back." She smiled when she broke away from him.

* * *

><p>Jackson had been in an unusually somber mood since he had left Lisa's condo that night, he had been prepared for her anger, her biting comments and fight but still her words and what he had seen had played over and over in his mind.<p>

_" I doubt you, yourself, live Jackson." _She had called to his retreating figure, hints of venom laced with her accusation. Lifting his head up from where it hung, his back hunched on the near-bottom step of his stairway, he glanced around his 'home'. The sunlight through the panes on his front door, seared his eyes, the air in the large and open hallway was suffocating. Looking closely, he could see small dust particles floating through the air where the sun's bright morning rays shone. He watched as they drifted through the air and noted how they never came into contact with anything, just floated through time and space.

Like Him.

Like Lisa.

How did things get this way. He had money. Lots of it. He could have any woman, any car and any house he wanted. In all his years, his material and power hungry goals had suited him well. He had it all, at least, that's what it looked like on paper. In reality, a new reality, it wasn't enough for him. Sharp thoughts went through his mind, a sudden determination, new goals and priorities readjusted in his mind so quickly they made him dizzy. His wide pale eyes snapped to the door, he had to get outside, Carlisle was right.

* * *

><p>Joe Reisert was a naturally suspicious and careful man and always aware of his surroundings. Lisa's hardship on he flight back from her Grandmother's made him realise just how easily things can be taken from you, or in this case, almost taken from you. There are few men that can comprehend the animalistic need to protect his daughter and destroy the man yanking her beautiful auburns curls from her delicate scalp as he tried to haul her from the floor, her cry of pain sealing his fate as he shot him. He never suspected that he would feel a strange guilt aterwards, when the man - Jackson Rippner - lay on the floor desperate to breathe and live, blood seeping through the ghostly green of his shirt. What was more surprising, was the effect that Rippner had on his daughter in the following days, weeks and months. This, Joe Reisert was sure, he would never comprehend, nor understand and Lisa had never offered details about what transpired that night.<p>

Amidst his retrospective brooding, the knife slipped and sliced his index and middle finger.

"Ah! Goddamn it!" He sore in annoyance, the onions stinging the wound. Moving stealthily to the tap. he rinsed off the blood and reached for kitchen paper when a noise in the doorway caught his attention.

"If I was hell-bent on killing you, this would certainly be in my favour." A deep- male and unfamiliar voice stated. A little afraid and equally annoyed that he had been caught off-guard, Joe Reisert Whipped round and glanced at someone all too familiar. Jackson Rippner stood in the doorway to his kitchen, hands in pockets, watching him with a guarded gaze, a calm one that Joe Reisert had never seen in his eyes. In contrast, an insane rage seemed to penetrate the very air, the last time he had seen him. His shock dissipitated and annoyance and anger came instead.

"What do you think your doing in my house?" Joe Reiser Bellowed in reply, picking up the knife that had sliced him minutes before.

"I came to see you, Mr Resisert. Like I said, Im not hell bent on killing you and you've already had your shot at me. I think that's fair, don't you?" Jackson replied, his voice laced with a dangerous sarcasm.

"What do you want then, Jackson?" Joe replied with uncertainty, the knife lowering to the counter once more. He was surprised to see amusement bubble in his enemy's eyes, his sharp features soften slightly.

"You ask nearly as many questions as your daughter, Mr Reisert." He smirked.

"Gave me a headache on that flight."

"Do not talk about my daughter! Tell me what you want or I'll call the police!" Joe shouted in response.

"First thing's, first, I think you need to get that seen to." Jackson nodded to his hand, where blood ran a spider web over his hand. Joe glanced up, remembering Lisa's confession to him just last night, _'I was in a bad way, I don't know why, but he took care of me.'_ her tone echoed in his mind, calming his angry thoughts. He nodded and proceeded in getting the first aid kit, the guilt at almost killing the man gave Joe Reisert a sharp pain to his heart.

He would hear him out.


	6. Echoes

Lisa closed the front door of her Father's house. It was twilight and her father's home was dressed in soft hue shades of rich browns and oranges. She had bought her father's favourite red wine for dinner as token of her appreciation. From what she could hear, he was still busy frying and cooking but what she was puzzled by, was that more than one male voice emitted from the kitchen. It was bright in the kitchen, the sun always reaching through the window, its ray's enticing her to move toward it and identify its unknown guest.

Slipping off her heels, she made her way to the doorway, her hand gripping the bottle neck, she felt a strange anticipation and fear. It could be anyone. Making her way into the kitchen, she only saw her father there, stirring something in a pan, his jumper sleeves rolled to his elbows. She took a steadying breath, irritated by her paranoia.

"Hi, Dad." She said in relief, a smile gracing her lips. She made her way to where he was.

"You got my favourite Leese!" He exclaimed, looking at the bottle in her hand, she looked down and nodded.

"Were you talking to someone, Dad? I thought I heard a voice." She asked in doubt and confusion.

"You think your father's crazy, Leese?" A familiar voice, filled with amusement spoke from behind her. She let out a shriek. Dropping the glass bottle, hearing the loud shatter as pieces littered the kitchen floor. She jerked round to face Jackson Rippner leaning casually against the cupboard, a beer bottle in his hand. She felt afraid, not for herself, but her father.

"After all this your still afraid of me, Leese? I thought we would have got past that by now. I see your still clutching to those female emotions of yours." He drawled with sarcasm. Wide-eyed, she reached behind her in attempts to clutch he father, stepping backwards, barefoot into the glass, she gripped his sleeve, walking him backwards.

"Dad, run!" She yelled as she twisted round to push him towards the exit. He still had a grip on the pan however and it went clattering to the floor, the sauce and all. Her Dad stumbled, letting out a yelp as the sauce bounced to scold some of his foot.

"Lisa!" Joe Reisert called to his daughter. He watched as she grabbed the pan, still with remnants of sauce and swipe it at her once, predatory assassin.

"Stay Back, Jack! Leave him alone!" She screamed at him, beer discarded, he dodged and thwarted all attempts, all but one.

"Calm the Fuck Down Lisa!" Jackson yelled, grabbing her wrist and twisting it until the pan was dropped. His hair covering some of his vision.

"Jackson, Let her go." Lisa heard her father call from behind. Readjusting his weight, she heard glass crunch under the soles of Jackson's shoes. He broke eye contact and glanced down, gazing at the glass covering the floor and the visible blood on her foot. She could hear her breathing, loud in the room, Jackson glanced back up at her, the shadows exaggerating the sharpness of his face. He released her.

"Daddy? I dont understand?" Lisa asked, feeling betrayed and stupid.

"What's he doing here! He threatened to kill you!" She cried in hysterics.

"Lisa, your hurt, lets get you fixed up and then talk?" Her father replied, taking on a soothing voice as if she were to bolt.

"Listen to your father- for once, Leese." Jackson's voice, snarled from behind, clearly impatient. She twisted back round, wincing at the glass embedded in her foot.

"Get out of this house!" She yelled into his face.

"No, I dont think I will." He seethed at her, inches from her face.

"I dont think this is a good ide-" Joe Reisert began, just as Jackson grabbed Lisa around the legs and hauled her over his shoulder.

"What are you doing! Put me down! Daddy! - Help Me!" She cried. Struggling furiously. Lisa's delicate feet could now be clearly seen by Joe Reisert, coated with bloody patches and still embedded glass.

"You got a first aid kit?" Jackson asked in a low voice.

"In the lounge - second drawer down of the cabinet or upstairs in the bathroom." He replied absently, still gazing at Lisa who continued to struggle and cry for his help.

"I'll help you, Jackson." He added, looking back up to Jackson.

With Lisa still over his shoulder, Jackson took her to the couch, Joe Reisert following. Holding her back with a firm hand, Jackson dropped her down gently until she was rested on the sofa. Joe Reisert retrieved the first aid kit and walked over to his daughters feet, inspecting the damage there. Jackson was still kneeled on the floor, watching her.

"I came to speak with your father, Lisa, the Dinner was an added bonus.. So were you." He smirked at her.

"What would you want to talk with him about? Why cant you leave me alone!" She replied quickly.

"Is that what you want, Leese?" He asked with seriousness. She felt his words swirl around her mind and echo back at her, making her feel alone and vulnerable because a part of her, a small part, didnt want him to. Her father extracted a large piece of glass which stung harshly, she cried out and Jackson placed his palm on her hairline, gently scraping back the hair there. she looked up at him in surprise. She pulled away from his hand and turned away.

"I think you better leave Jackson." Joe Reisert asked, a hint of worry to his voice.

And he left.


End file.
